


Decorations

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: An unfortunate misunderstanding





	Decorations

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Decorations by Alicia

26 October 1998  
Decorations  
by Alicia  
10/98  
Disclaimers: Not mine. And now they probably won't want to be.  
Spoilers: Hey, looky here! I think there's a (small) spoiler for Patient X/The Red and the Black! And Fight the Future, too, kinda sorta! Watch out, world, next thing you know I'll be writing something with a plot.  
Summary: An unfortunate misunderstanding.  
Ratings Note: NC-17.  
Archiving Info: Archive /X only, please.  
Author's Note: For my favorite mongoose on her birthday, with love.  
Acknowledgments: Obeisances as ever to Te, for patiently and painstakingly helping turn scattered sentences into a story. Thanks to Arlington for the lovely coat, and apologies for its misuse. And roses to my once and future beta, Trill, for speedbeta at an ungodly hour.  
Feedback to , please.

* * *

*****  
Decorations  
by Alicia  
*****

The package arrived unannounced. It was just there on the doormat one day, wrapped in brown paper and twine, gaily colored stamps in various alphabets cluttering its face.

It disturbed him a bit, this concrete evidence that he'd been here long enough for word to get around. But another part of him was strangely touched by the sight of one of his less dangerous names, followed by a carefully lettered "c/o Mulder," on the rough paper.

Curiosity as to *what* Vivianne was sending him after all this time roused him from his existential reverie, and he unlocked the door, awkwardly juggling keys and package. He briefly wondered whether he should be worried, but no; she would've used a different name, sent it a different way.... Vivianne was a professional. He could be confident of that.

Mulder wasn't due back until the next day, out of town on one of the red herring cases he had to keep investigating in order to keep up the pretense that he believed the summer's events had been an end rather than a beginning. Frustrating as hell, for both of them, but it increased their life expectancies.

When Alex saw the neatly folded olive-green wool, he was abruptly grateful for the privacy. The accompanying note merely read, "Thought you might want this," in familiar slanting Cyrillic. Vivianne had never been long on words.

He blinked, lips flattening, and rose; stalked into the kitchen and yanked open the freezer. Vodka seemed only fitting, and he had a bottle he'd been saving, his favorite, flavored with ginger and cloves. If not now, when? He downed the first shot standing in the kitchen.

Seated again on the couch, he took another stab at the package, pulling the heavy fabric awkwardly from the wrapping. Christ, he couldn't even hold it up properly. He put down the coat, traded it for his glass. So long ago, so much water under the bridge. Bark of mirthless laughter. //Yeah, and burnt bodies on top of it.//Could he even remember what it had been like to wear this uniform for the first time, to believe in the superiority of the goals he was fighting for, to believe in *anything* other than survival?

Another drink, and he couldn't help wondering if any of the--not men, that kind of naivete had to be a factor of immaturity--*boys* he'd trained with were still alive. Would he recognize them if he saw them on the street? What would they see if they looked at him? //Fucking cripple, waste of space....//

This was ridiculous. He crumpled the garment and moved toward the wastebasket. Standing there, though, he couldn't do it; settled for shoving it in the back of the hall closet. And then drinking until he could make himself forget it was there.

***

Mulder was looking for his old running shoes. His regular pair had gotten ruined in the questionably picturesque wilds of Newark, and he *needed* to go running. Alex was in a shitty mood--seemed like he had been for days, alternately sulking and making cryptic, smart-ass remarks until Mulder was ready to smack him. He knew the shoes should be there somewhere, in the back of the closet, with the emergency candles and whatever the hell else had gotten shoved in there over the years.

Groping blindly, he encountered unexpected fabric. His first thought was that one of his coats had fallen off the hanger, but the fabric didn't feel familiar. He pulled it out into the light.

A heavy sweep of khaki wool, almost ankle-length, tabs defining the shoulders and a scattering of bars and ribbons brightening the chest. Myriad events of the past several days suddenly formed a pattern in Mulder's mind. Alex had been uncommunicative, almost secretive ....

A floorboard creaked, and Mulder swung around to stare at the man he'd been sharing his home, his body, very nearly his heart with for the past weeks. "What is this, *Krycek*?" Past betrayals crowded his mind, and there was acid on his tongue. "Would you care to explain just what this is doing in my closet?"

Alex's voice was flat. "Seems to me you've already answered that question."

Mulder wondered how he'd ever thought he could read the emotions behind those eyes, ever believed there was anything alive in there at all. "You asshole."

"Give it to me." Alex reached for the coat. His hand was strong and clean, and Mulder had a vision of that same hand stroking him knowingly, maddeningly, just the night before.

"Motherf-- You want this? You want it? I'll give it to you, you sonofabitch--"

Alex hardly reacted as Mulder advanced on him. A flicker of eyelashes, nothing more.

"Put it on." Rage lent him strength and he didn't stop to think about the fact that Alex wasn't fighting back. He flung the coat at Alex, dragging it over his shoulders, and when that familiar face swung up, its sad-eyed beauty merely reinforced his fury. "Still fits pretty well, doesn't it?"

"Mulder, don't--"

"Shut up. You really must've been laughing these past weeks, you and your friends. Give Spooky a few clues, some probably-worthless information, get inside his defenses, get in his bed, then you can--what? What were you sent to do? Report back on what I'm working on? Change the data? What? Was fucking me part of the plan, or just extra credit? Is the apartment bugged? Have your bosses been getting their rocks off watching us?"

"Mulder, no--"

"I said shut *up.* They want a show? I'll give them a show." Yanking savagely at the lapels of the coat, he forced Alex to his knees. Wound one hand savagely in Alex's hair to keep him down while he opened his fly with the other. He was so hard he could barely get the zipper down.

"How good a soldier are you, Krycek?" Even he could hear the lust overlaying the bitterness, his weakness all too evident. "'From each according to his abilities,' right? Well, you certainly have the ability."

Mulder didn't really believe Alex would do it, and even when that hot mouth closed around him some part of his mind kept waiting for the teeth. For some appropriately acute physical pain to distract him from the rest. 

But the expected attack didn't come, only the inflaming friction of lips and tongue, suction and heat and oh god the pressure of Alex's throat, swallowing, squeezing ....

Mulder pulled back, desperately, reclaiming his cock from Alex's greedy mouth, his seed splashing on the younger man's upturned face. Mulder twisted slightly and smiled as the rest spattered across those damned ribbons.

"What's the matter, don't you like your new 'decorations'?" he snarled, as Alex's gaze fell to the mess staining his chest. "No, don't wipe it off." Mulder grabbed Alex's wrist and twisted it painfully. "If you want it off of there, you know what you need to do."

Another unreadable look and then that dark head bent, tongue slipping out to lap away the sticky beads. The image was unexpectedly intimate, and Mulder clung to the dregs of his anger, determined not to show what the idea of being alone again did to him. That would be the final humiliation. Bad enough that he'd been taken in by long lashes and outlandish stories, but to let Alex see how much Mulder would miss him-- He crushed the thought before it could take hold. There was nothing to miss. The Alex he'd deluded himself into loving was nothing but a construct of his imagination. Wish fulfillment. And the man in front of him could not be allowed to see how much that hurt.

"Can I go now, Mulder?" The soft voice yanked him back to unwelcome reality. Mulder licked dry lips and forced himself to relax his grip on Alex's wrist.

Alex dragged his hand across his face, grimacing as the movement smeared Mulder's come over his cheek and palm. He made no move to stand, looking up at Mulder as if waiting for something. Mulder mentally rewound, swallowed hard. "Uh, yeah." Stepped back from the still-kneeling man. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't come up with a more intelligent comment.

At last Alex moved, getting to his feet slowly and with little of his usual grace. Mulder turned his head, tried to focus his eyes on the opposite wall, the window blinds, anything but the man in front of him. But when the coat slipped off Alex's shoulders, Mulder found himself bending to pick it up, offering it to the other man. Alex just looked at him and shook his head.

Opened the door and was gone, leaving Mulder standing there, wool puddling on the floor at his feet.

*****


End file.
